*Warning, today's is a long post. I had some extra time after baby went to bed and this prompt was a fun one for me.
Prompt: Stendhal Syndrome, sometimes also called hyperkulturemia or Florence Syndrome (the city where Stendhal himself first swooned), is the psychosomatic disorder of being physically overwhelmed by art and tends to overtake tourists in cities highly saturated with museums and public artwork, especially when the traveler doesn't speak the language. Put yourself in the shoes of a tourist in Paris, experiencing its thrall.
Response: I stepped out of the jetway into the airport terminal with nervous excitement. As we were landing, I tried my best to understand the flight attendant's instructions in French but only passed the language barrier because each sentence was spoken in French and then in English. My minor in Spanish is not helping me now. As I stroll through the airport to baggage claim I see posters advertising iconic monuments such as the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe and Notre-Dame. I see listings for world-renowned art exhibits appearing at the Louvre. I had thoroughly examined each page of my Frommers travel book for France, ear-marking pages and highlighting names of places high on my To-Visit list.
First stop was to check-in to my quaint Air BnB apartment nestled above shops filled with fresh flowers and a cafe with the strong, sweet aroma of coffee and fresh pastries. That cafe will become a part of my morning routine without a doubt.
I decide on an early evening flipping through my guide book yet again, mapping out my plan for the following day, ever-so-eager to start checking off places on my list. I check to make sure my phone is charging properly as it will serve as my camera to document my adventures around Paris. I know which monuments are within walking distance to which museums, and which I need to find an alternate mode of transportation. I count and recount my euros, place some in my cross-body purse, hide some in a jean pocket and yet others in my sock...yes, I've read safety tips for traveling in foreign countries and I'm prepared.
My first full day starts before sunrise as I coerce myself to overcome the jet lag and desire to go back to sleep so that I can make it to the Trocadero at sunrise to see the reflection of the Eiffel Tower in the fountain waters. Not only do sunrises offer stunning photo opportunities, you tend to beat the height of the tourist rush hours the earlier start you get. After a couple hours of climbing to view points in the Iron Lady of Paris, I then wandered the surrounding streets and take a quick lunch break in a grass field looking up at the towering structure of grace and strength.
In the afternoon I wander around a bit more, just taking in the sights, sounds and people-gazing. Such an eclectic mix of cultures and languages mesh together at one of the most popular sites in the world. I find a few cute stores to peruse, quickly realizing I found a high-end fashion block that is well-beyond my budget. I grab a few food staples from a nearby market and head back to the apartment I'm renting to plan my next day.
The Louvre is pretty-much an all-day commitment, I've determined. Now, I'm not especially intrigued by all things art but the vast amount of pieces on display, the history and culture behind them and the fact that I really want to take time to ponder the paintings, like you see in so many movies, meant I was committing my entire day to this museum with glass triangles emerging from the walkway.
By the end I'm emotionally drained, there is something magical and overwhelming about this place. Like I said, I'm not overly artistic, I don't become emotional over art but boy, I did today. How can you not with everything from exquisitely details sculptures to rare antiquities and of course some of the most famous paintings known to mankind. Like so many others, the works of the marvelous Leonardo De Vinci occupied at least a couple hours of my time alone. Now since photos and videos are prohibited, I pulled out my trusty journal and pen and tried to carve out time to sit and experience the art around me. I write notes, I scribble words of emotions I'm experiencing and I create list of my favorite works. I don't want to forget anything.
By the time I'm back at the apartment with a bottle of red wine, a fresh baguette (side note - they don't call them "French" baguettes in France), some cheese and fresh fruit. I pop off my shoes, hop on the bed and have picnic right there, reflecting back again on all I saw today, scrolling photos until my eyes just can't absorb any more. Even with the sturdy, supportive walking shoes, my feet are showing signs of the miles I've walked so far. Little do they know this is only the first leg.
Three more days of walking, touring, sputtering the few French words and phrases I've learned and my eyes start to glaze over. My exuberance of being in a new place is starting to wane slightly. I'm running low on money and energy. I start to mixup places I've been and what I saw where. I have to scan my photos to jog my memory, and I've only been here five days. At least the owner of the cafe knows my order and greets me with a friendly 'Bonjour'. The images I tried so hard to keep fresh in my head start to become more of a blurred collage, one monument fading into another, almost like painting with watercolors and using too much water. Colors fade and run together and the shape is no longer what it started out as.
My final morning is spent rushing to re-pack my suitcase, make sure my plane ticket, passport and what little cash is left are organized and kept in safekeeping. All my souvenirs barely fit, my phone camera roll is dangerously close to 100% and if I buy one more notebook, my suitcase will be over the weight limit. As I finally sit down in my seat on the plane, I think back to my trip. I start with clear, crisp images and by the time we are lifting off the runway, my eyes are heavy, my memories swirl like when you spin too fast and everything is a blur and suddenly I'm completely overcome with the exhaustion I was able to fend off the days before. There is a fine balance between having enough time to feel like you've experienced the city without missing the big parts and spending too much time and experience observation overload. I think I found that sweet spot since I was able to enjoy the days and generally remember what I saw, felt, heard but without becoming so bogged down to not appreciate what was in front of me.
Back home to plan the next adventure to a foreign city, maybe this time Spain or Guetmala where the language barrier would be far less tiresome and daunting.
*No, I've not been to Paris yet but it is on the Dream List*
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